The Wand Chooses
by DreamerEye
Summary: Voldemort, obsessed with defeating Dumbledore, conscripts Gregorovitch into making the most powerful wand. Little does he know that the famous wandmaker is retired. Or that the man's son, the brains behind the operation, is really Harry Potter in hiding. Will either be able to fight rising feelings for the enemy? Slash.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.

"speech"

'_thoughts_'

-_parseltongue_-

* * *

October 31st, 1981 found Albus Dumbledore fiddling with the ends of his beard as he sat in his office. It was a nervous tick of his, one that subtly displayed his anxiety and distress.

He knew something terrible would happen tonight - something involving Tom Riddle, who now called himself Lord Voldemort. Albus could feel it in the air; an uneasy chill that promised pain and danger.

The warning could even be coming from spirits of the afterlife - Halloween was the day that the barrier between the dead and living was the weakest after all. It was also a powerful day for the darkest of Dark Arts, and Tom, knowing his twisted mind, would take it as a good omen for whatever evil deed he was planning.

Albus thought of the prophecy, the main factor that would surely drive Tom's hand. It spoke of a child that he would mark as his equal in power, and thus become a threat to the dark empire he was on his way to building. But would it be little Harry, born to James and Lilly Potter, or Frank and Alice Longbottom's son Neville? Both fit the qualifications mentioned in the rest of the prophecy, but which would Tom choose as his equal? Albus had placed both families under secure wards, but even that didn't calm his troubled mind.

But he had no more time to think - the wards around the Longbottom house had fallen, signaled by the beeping of a silver gadget on his desk.

'_So Tom has chosen_,' was his last solemn thought before he activated one of the many portkeys hidden in his robes. The portkey deposited him in front of Longbottom Manor, and into mild chaos. It seemed he had already missed the majority of the action, and was now witnessing the shocked reactions now that things had calmed down.

Albus walked quickly to the front door, past a group of Aurors that were surrounding restrained wizards; 'Death Eaters' as Tom called his followers. The loud cackle of crazed laughter followed him into the building - it must have been Bellatrix Lestrange among the arrested - where he met Augusta Longbottom.  
She was holding a sniffling toddler in her arms, and her face had dust and tear-tracks on it.

"Neville?" He asked while looking at the young boy.

"He wasn't harmed," she answered stiffly. "I ran to grab him as soon as I heard them break down the door."

"Frank and Alice?" He continued after a pause. Her face twitched before it settled again into a stiff mask.

"They've both gone to St. Mungo's. The healers suspect torture using the Cruciatus..." Her voice trailed off into grieving silence.

Albus sighed softly. Those were two more people who's lives were ruined by Tom's mad hunger for power. Not to mention Augusta who had lost her only son and daughter-in-law, and poor little Neville who only had his grandmother now.

"Well at least Tom did not hurt Neville tonight," he said, to console himself and the Longbottom matriarch.

"Well it's good he didn't show up, else Merlin only knows how much more damage there would have been," she muttered angrily.

He was surprised by her answer, and started to respond when the ring on his left pinky started to glow. They both stared at the ring before Albus turned and rushed back out of the manor. Bellatrix was being hoisted to her feet as he passed, and she smiled widely at him.

"You're already too late Dumbledore!" She jeered, ignoring the aurors that were trying to quiet her. "By the time you arrive my Lord will have already destroyed the Potters! We may have failed here but my Lord will be victorious!" She laughed loudly, and the sound seemed to follow him through the portkey, and still echoed softly behind him as he landed in front of what was left of the Potter cottage.

Grimly Albus raised his wand as he approached the entrance to the house - the door had been smashed off of its hinges providing a glimpse of the destroyed living room.

He instantly shot a Stupefy at the figure standing by the fireplace, who quickly turned and blocked the spell. It was Tom, and Albus saw with rising panic that he had little Harry in his arms. The baby seemed to be under a sleeping spell, since he wasn't moving aside from the rising of his chest. Unlike the snake-like appearance he had the last time Albus had seen him, Tom had regained the beauty he had since childhood, and was handsome and charismatic. Tom smiled nastily at Albus' pale face, and gestured around the destroyed room they were standing in.

"Do you like what I've done with the place, Dumbledore?" he asked mockingly. "I thought it needed a little...redecoration."

Albus gave the room a quick look around, taking in the shredded couch, the burned drapes, and the smashed picture frames scattered over the floor.

And there was James, lying two feet away from him with his wand hanging out of his limp hand and his glassy eyes staring up at the ceiling. Next to him was Lily, her face forever frozen in a look of horror and her body stretched as if she was reaching for something. Both had cuts all over their bodies, implying they'd suffered injuries from Tom's wand before being killed.

'_Poor Lily and James, they never had a chance_,' Albus thought sadly. But now was not the time to mourn - Albus straightened and griped his wand tighter.

"Let Harry go," Ablus demanded.

Tom just watched him, his grin widening. "I think not, old man! I won't kill him now, but I'll make it impossible for him to kill me later."

Turning quickly, he threw some floo powder into the fire. Albus shot another Stupefy at the other man, which was blocked once again. Tom smirked as he jumped into the fireplace, but didn't notice the wandless pinching spell Albus sent to him at the last minute. He gasped when the pinch registered on his arm as his body flew through space, causing his arms to loosen for a second. In that moment Harry slipped from his arms and disappeared. Tom arrived a moment later alone in front of his own fireplace, with nothing show for the night's effort except for several followers behind bars. His scream of rage echoed through his manor.

Back at the Potter Cottage, Albus continued watching the now dark fireplace, contemplating the possible future that would result from both his and Tom's actions. He knew the spell had registered. The only question now was where Harry was.

"And thus the race begins to find the Chosen One," he murmured, then turned away. He would think about his next steps later; now he would morn the loss of four close friends, and try to console those that remained.

Mykrew was on his way upstairs to bed when he heard the sound of someone arriving through the floo. Turning curiously, he slowly made his way back down and to the living room, stopping in the entrance to stare at his unexpected guest. A baby was sitting in front of the fire, throwing soot over the floor and giggling.

He stared, shocked, before pulling his wand from his pocket. First, he cleaned the mess the child was making, bringing a small pout to the boy's face. Next the child was brought into his arms, gurgling happily as he flew through the air.

Mykrew held him gently as if he feared he might hurt the boy – he'd never held a baby before. Looking the boy over, he took in the plain white t-shirt, under dark blue overalls that had a small lion stitched on the chest in gold thread. Under the lion also in gold was the name 'Harry'.

"Well Harry, let's get you settled in," Mykrew hummed to the baby, deciding instantly to keep him. After all, no one would suspect he was the well-known wandmaker Mykrew Gregorovitch if he had a baby with him. They would assume, rightly so, that he was a retired old man, taking care of a young boy he had adopted or some such story.

With a nod of his head, he returned to the stairs, thinking that the empty third bedroom would make a nice nursery for Harry. He ignored the door to the second bedroom, and the little clench in his heart as he passed it. The boy was already settling down in his arms, a sleepy expression on his face and his thumb in his mouth. Smiling gently for what seemed the first time in a long while, Mykrew made plans for the future with his young charge, and was for once happy while thinking of something other than wands.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone who who has reviewed and decided to follow this story! This chapter turned out to be a lot longer than the original version - I kept adding things as I revised...

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.

"speech"

'_thoughts_'

-_parseltongue_-

* * *

Harry ran his fingers along the row of drawers before coming to a stop in front of one with a small white knob. Pulling open the drawer, he looked down at a pile of white sticks, all with dark brown horizontal lines. They were all different lengths but each was very slim, reminiscent of long pale fingers.

He shuffled through the pile and slowly pulled out one of the shorter sticks, careful not to break any of the smaller twigs that were attached. He looked back and forth from the pile to the one in his hand, before scratching his ear.

"Are you sure you're ready though?" he whispered to the small stick. "I'm pretty sure you'll grow a leaf soon..." After another moment of staring at the stick, he nodded hesitantly and closed the drawer. "If you're sure then..."he murmured.

Harry brought the stick to the work table in the middle of the large room, and placed it in a wide tray. It was made of white marble, with engravings traveling around its low lip. There was an identical tray right next to it, separated by only a couple of inches.

Leaving the wood, he walked over to the wall opposite the rows of drawers. This wall was covered from floor to ceiling with shelves, upon which were thousands of glass vials filled with different objects. Each vial was unique – some were more round or thin, while others varied in height. There were also those that had tinted glass, from clear glass through every shade of the rainbow, to pitch black making it impossible to see the contents inside.

Starting at the far end of the wall, Harry started to walk it's length while glancing at different jars. He hummed lightly as he went – it was a random melody that changed tempo and rhythm occasionally. At the middle of the wall he stopped suddenly, continuing his tune as he stared at a shelf three rows from the bottom. He crouched down and reached in towards the back of the shelf and rummaged around before pulling back. In his hand was a small yellow-tinted vial, labeled 'Kneazle Heart-string'. Ending his tune he returned to the table and opened the vial over the second empty tray – the bloody heart-string slid from the container, leaving a thin trail of dark blue slime in it's wake.

With both of the trays filled, Harry pulled his wand from behind his ear and started to chant, twirling his wand in a figure-eight pattern. The language was a mixture of Gaelic and Old English, dating back to long before the separation of Light and Dark Magic. This spell was normally used to bond two like-minded people together, to reveal their similarities and unite them under common goals.

As he continued to chant, the two trays moved closer and closer together, until they were touching side by side. With the final syllable of the chant and a quick burst of light, the trays were replaced by one large tray. In the middle was a very pale wand that curved gently to one direction before jerking the opposite way at the point. Harry picked up the wand and angled it slightly in front of his face.

"Well I hope you two will be happy for many years in there," he whispered to it, "And here's to you finding your true partner!" He patted the wand gently, looking up when he heard a light knock.

His father stood in the doorway behind him, a gentle smile on his face.

"What have you made this time?" he asked curiously.

Harry shrugged and lifted the wand towards the man, who walked forward and took it. He rolled it in his hands, then held it in front of his eyes.

"How interesting! Clearly birch wood, rather short isn't it? Only six and a quarter inches..." he tapped the wand across his palm several times. "Yes, quite interesting, and the shape is different. I can tell it's heartstring, but definitely not dragon..."

Harry smiled slightly and waited. His father loved trying to guess his wand combinations, but always seemed to falter at the cores. The man quirked his eyebrow, and Harry's smile widened.

"Correct, it's not dragon. Kneazle."

"Kneazle?"

"Yes. Isn't it a good combination?"

The older man scratched his head as he stared at the wand, seeing it in a new light. "It's decent, I just wouldn't have thought the kneazle would agree so well. But why not dragon? It would be more powerful..."

Harry snatched the wand from his father and petted it, frowning at the man. "Don't say that! It's powerful enough for what it and its master need to accomplish..." Turning to look at the wand he brought it close to his face. "Don't listen to him," he whispered to it, "I know you'll be perfect for one lucky person. And power isn't everything." The wand vibrated a little in his hand then stilled.

Hearing the tail-end of his son's conversation, Mykrew nodded solemnly. "Too true, my boy, and don't you forget it," he said. Clapping Harry on the back, he then steered him towards the door. "As much as I enjoy watching you, we should go eat dinner, no?"

They paused in the antechamber outside of the crafting room, and Mykrew waited while Harry found a box for the new wand. The antechamber was filled with boxes of different sizes and styles, and Mykrew knew- from Harry of course - that some wands were particular about their containers. He was thankful that this wand wasn't too picky, since Harry only tried two boxes before finding the right one. The boy then ran past him, saying,"Hurry up old man! We don't have all day!"

Mykrew chuckled, continuing his slow pace. He definitely wasn't as young as he used to be, or even as young as he was when Harry appeared in his life, though his spirit felt younger. He couldn't believe it had already been 16 years since a sooty baby had landed in his fireplace, smiling and giggling happily.

And yet he couldn't stop his thoughts from drifting to the one thing he'd kept from his son – his true parentage. Pausing in the hallway, Mykrew leaned against the wall, his face suddenly tired and heavy.

He remembered owl-ordering a heredity potion days after Harry arrived, and the shock at seeing the sad results – the words **"James and Lily Potter (deceased)"** staring back at him from the yellowed parchment. And while that was terrible, the bigger blow came years later, when Harry was 3.

He'd been out shopping when he'd overheard two men swapping gossip. He lingered curiously, only to freeze when one of them mentioned a rumor that both Voldemort and Albus Dumbledore were looking for Harry Potter for an unknown reason. Trying not to bring attention to himself, he ended his shopping and hurried home.

Yes, he was ashamed that he'd lied to Harry all these years. The boy still innocently thought that Mykrew was his father, that his mother had died in childbirth; that the only reason they were hiding was due to Mykrew's adoringly fanatic customers. Yet that conversation had sparked the beginning of his paranoia, leading him to keep Harry hidden in his home for the last 14 years. But at least he was safe, and relatively happy. That was the most important thing, in the man's opinion.

Shaking his head, Mykrew surprisingly caught up with Harry who was standing quietly in the living room. The boy turned to him and cocked his had slightly; a moment later a small augurey fluttered onto his shoulder. The bird had feathers in several shades of green with black feathers scattered throughout its plumage.

Mykrew stared at the bird - he would always be amazed that Harry had learned the animagus transformation so young even though he'd suggested it as another safety measure. Wondering why Harry suddenly transformed, he found out a moment later.

The air got heavy quickly, making it harder to breathe. There was a pause followed by a muted crack, then a man was standing in front of them. He had perfectly coiffed hair that fell in light waves, and bright red eyes. His outfit stated the difference between rich and wealthy, from his delicate black silk shirt and pants to the scaled over-robe that looked to be dragonscale. His stance screamed of arrogance, along with the power to back it up.

Mykrew gulped, trying to stay composed. "Lord Voldemort, it's a surprise to see you here. What may I help you with?" he asked quietly. He had an inkling the man wanted something to do with wands - why else would he visit a wandmaker?

"Gregorovitch," Voldemort replied. "It's interesting to find you here instead of your shop in Berlin. Are you...hiding...from someone in this remote village?"

"No My Lord, but I am retired," Mykrew answered hastily.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow, glancing around the modestly furnished living room. "Regardless, I need your services. Have you heard of the Elder Wand?" he asked.

Mykrew paled. Of all the things to ask about...

"I have," he paused then continued. "I once had it in my store inventory."

At this Voldemort's eyes snapped to his face, and he took a threatening step forward. "And now?" His voice hinted at imminent pain depending on Mykrew's answer.

He decided for the truth - he was sure Voldemort would find out one way or another.

"It was stolen from me several years ago," he said. The augurey shifted its wings under his trembling arm, catching Voldemort's attention briefly.

"...and do you know who the thief was?" Voldemort asked. He'd taken a deep breath, and was now rolling his wand between his fingers.

"No, my Lord," Mykrew said softly. There was a long silence, and he wondered if the man would curse him.

"Well," Voldemort replied after a moment,"I don't accept failure in anyone. You'll just have to make a more powerful wand."

Mykrew gaped, then responded. "I shall do my best My Lord - though it will take some time to make something more powerful than the Elder Wand...please come back in a couple of days and I should have some samples for you to try."

Voldemort stared at Mykrew then nodded. "We shall try this your way then. Don't think of running away - I'll find you and you won't like the consequences," he warned.

Mykrew nodded, believing the man's threat. With his agreement Voldemort wasted no time and apparated away. With his departure the air cleared, and the whole house seemed to breathe a little easier.

Harry, who had been quiet up till now, started cawing loudly, startling Mykrew who had taken that moment to relax. "This is not something to be excited about," he scolded with a frown. "That man is asking for the impossible!"

Harry gave him an unimpressed look before transforming back into bid human self. "Then why did you agree?" he retorted.

"There was no other option!" Mykrew said. He ran his hands through his hair, mussing the neat strands. "This is a disaster..."

Harry paced around the room, his eyes bright and eager. "But Father! Think of the possibilities – to make something more powerful than the Elder Wand! Also why didn't you ever tell me you used to own it?" Harry pouted.

Mykrew ignored him and headed towards the kitchen. "No, he's asking for the impossible. And I won't be doing it," he muttered. Harry quickly blocked his path, shocked.

"But why not?"

"Because I'm retired, Harry," he replied tartly. His patience with the conversation was wearing thin. "I'm not going to go back on my promise to myself to stop making wands. You'll realize soon enough how much it can take over your life." He moved around the boy and continued into the kitchen. "Why do you think I moved to this small English village, in the middle of nowhere?" he called over his shoulder.

"Well I'll make it for you then," Harry said.

At that Mykrew rounded on the boy with an angry look. "You'll do no such thing - I forbid it! He can never find out that you're here!" He shouted.

Harry stared back, not intimidated. "Well someone has to make something for him," he replied calmly. "Or did you forget his threat of torture and or death? He'll find out eventually, I've heard he's a master legilimens."

Mykrew looked down. There was no arguing that point, however much he wanted to. They were stuck between two horrible choices - and both would probably lead to Voldemort discovering Harry's identity.

The conversation dropped as they prepared dinner, both lost in their thoughts. After they were done they returned to the living room and settled into the chairs in front of the fire. The house was a bit chilly with the season changing from autumn to winter, so the fire was warm and inviting.

Harry scooted his chair closer to his father and grabbed his hand. The older man glanced down in surprise - Harry had grown out of physical displays of affection long ago.

"I think it'll be okay Father," Harry said. Mykrew raised an eyebrow.

"I just have a feeling," Harry added. Mykrew huffed irately, but tucked the boy's hand under his arm, both quietly thinking about this sudden disturbance in their lives.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks again to everyone who reviewed!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.

"speech"

'_thoughts_'

-_parseltongue_-

* * *

The next morning Mykrew found Harry sitting on the floor in the wand room. He was meditating - a practice that had never helped Mykrew. Harry didn't do it often either - only when he was working on a complex project.

He only waited a few minutes before Harry was done and slowly rising to his feet.

"You still plan on going through with this," Mykrew stated. He was mostly resigned to it, but he wanted to give his son another chance to change his mind. Harry nodded blankly - his mind was already far away calculating combinations and reviewing bonding spells.

"Dragon heartstring is definitely strong, but not dark enough for Voldemort,"Harry muttered. He raised his voice asking, "Father, what was the Elder Wand made of?"

Harry's voice startled Mykrew, who had almost given up speaking to him. The question made him sigh deeply.

"It was thestral hair encased in Elder wood," he said. His eyes were distant as he lost himself in the memory. "And before you make any plans the Elder tree is extinct - the last one to be documented was 300 years ago," he added, crushing Harry's next question.

"A wand more powerful than the Elder Wand will not be another wand just like it. You must find an alternate combination," Mykrew said.

Harry nodded, his face set firmly. His father excused himself quietly, leaving Harry to his thoughts.

Taking a moment before he started working, Harry closed his eyes and listened to the room. He could constantly hear each wandpiece like a distant whisper, and now that he was focused on them the sound swelled to a loud chatter.

The wood pieces were all humming lightly but he knew it wouldn't last - they were currently resting and would become louder whenever he opened their drawers. Meanwhile the wall of vials was like a menagerie; there were barks and growls and chirps coming from every corner. Sometimes the animal parts mimicked the sound of their animal, but other parts made certain sounds regardless of the animal they came from. Harry soaked in the noise - this was his domain, his home. Shaking his head he pushed the sounds back.

"_What do I know about Voldemort...he seems cold, self-assured, definitely powerful..._" he thought. Walking along the wall of drawers he stopped in front of the oak - it was a strong wood that could maybe stand up to Voldemort's power, as well as the strength of the dark creature core he had to choose.

Opening the drawer increased the volume of the humming oak sticks - they were excited, as if they could sense the importance of his project. Before he could protest several pieces jumped into his hand. Harry raised his eyebrows - they weren't usually this energetic, making him rethink his decision.

"Um...actually you guys can go back to sleep..."he stammered. They were reluctant but he eventually pulled them off of his hand and placed them in the drawer. However one refused to go - it clung to his hand like a barnacle while he tried to pry it off.

"Fine you come too! But I won't promise anything," Harry grumbled at it. The other sticks' sleepy protests were cut off when the drawer closed. The stick in his hand purred as if satisfied and amused by the others' failure. Harry scowled at it, muttering, "You might be right for him after all - you've got the arrogant part down." The purring increased and Harry snorted at it. He put it in the back of his mind as he then focused on the options for magical cores.

Walking along the shelves he stopped in front of the section for runespoors, looking thoughtfully at several vials.

"This is a good possibility..." Harry mused. "But which one is best?" He could go with the scales from the left head, the one in charge of reason. His hand hovered over the vial but his eyes drifted to one next to it.

"Or...I could go with the venom from the right..."

Harry moved towards the other vial, but one more behind them caught his eye. He paused, eyes flicking between the three, then his eyes lost focus as he listened to each vial. Harry nodded occasionally as they hissed to him, patiently giving each one their time to speak. Blinking suddenly he grabbed the third vial.

"I think the unexpected might be better," he said. Mind twisting through various rituals that could work with the unique core, Harry quirked an eyebrow at the oak stick as he set it one the work table.

"You said you wanted this," he teased to it. Ignoring it's quiver of fear he set to work, knowing he had several more wands to make and little time to do it.

The sun was setting; Harry was just rising, after having slept for a mere 3 hours. Two days had passed since Voldemort had made the demand for a powerful wand, and something told Harry that the ruthless man would show up tonight expecting results.

So he'd worked through the day and night, taking power naps in between his work. Each wand took several hours since the combinations were so unique and dangerous. He was quite proud of them, but he also felt that they wouldn't be perfect matches for Voldemort though he hoped the opposite.

He changed his clothes and quickly left his room, hurrying down the stairs. Mykrew was sitting in the living room reading, and jumped at Harry's appearance.

"Well look at this!" he said. "I haven't seen you for a whole day and you suddenly appear – come to spend time with your dear father?" he added cheerfully.

"No time, father!" Harry interrupted. "Voldemort's coming tonight, so you should be ready to present the wands I made."

Mykrew gaped, before hastily closing his book and laying it on the side table. "Wha-? He's coming tonight?" he gasped. "But how do you know? And what are the wands?"

Harry gently pulled his father out of the armchair, straightening the man's clothes as he talked.

"There are three: 11½ inch maple with hydra gas sac, the 14¼ inch birch with amphista venom, and the 12" oak with powdered runespoor eggshells," he listed.

Mykrew started at his son then started to stammer. "Runespoor eggshells? But how on earth did you come up with that? And a hydra gas sac? The amphista venom?!" he babbled.

"Yes I know, father." Harry said distractedly. He brushed off the man's shoulders and straightened his bow-tie. "Yes they're expensive and rare materials, but I think it's worth it. Besides, Voldemort will expect our best efforts." With that he patted Mykrew on the back, then transformed into his augurey form.

"But-but-" Mykrew started, interrupted by the crack of apparition as Voldemort arrived.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. "Talking to yourself, Gregorovitch?" he asked mockingly.

"No My Lord, my bird is just being a pest, cheeky little..." he said, trailing off with a glare towards the bird, who was calmly perched on the back of the armchair.

"Nevertheless, I've come to see if you've made any progress with my request," Voldemort continued, staring intently at the older man. "I hope you have, for your sake," he added menacingly.

Mykrew drew himself up, affronted, while trembling inside. "Of course I have, My Lord! I've made three excellent wands, that I hope will meet with your approval. I'll just-go get them, shall I?"

"And I'll just follow along shall I?" Voldemort added. "I'd be interested in seeing your workspace..."

Mykrew knew it wasn't up for debate, so he nodded quickly and led the way down the hall, shooting a dark look at the bird who attempted to land on his shoulder to join them.

Seemingly unconcerned, the bird turned to Voldemort and hovered in front of him. The man raised both eyebrows and stared back, snorting when the bird cawed impatiently. He lifted his arm, allowing the bird to land on it, then followed the wandmaker.

They shortly arrived at the door of the workroom, and Mykrew gestured towards the open door allowing Voldemort to precede him into the antechamber. He sputtered, seeing Harry sitting primly on the man's arm, but controlled himself by time Voldemort turned to him.

At the man's impatient stare, Mykrew quickly turned towards the three wand boxes sitting on top of the small table next to the shelves.

As he picked up the first box he saw the small symbols on the side – they were shorthand that his son used to list the length and makeup of his wands.

"So here is the first of the three – the ah – 12' oak wand, with a core of ah, powdered runespoor eggshells..." he said, reading the symbols as he spoke, thankful that his son hadn't left him on his own completely.

Opening the box he masked his surprise at the wand's appearance, and waited as the other man inspected it.

Voldemort wasn't expecting treachery, but he was still cautious. Reaching out with his magic, he felt for the wand, checking for any traps or hidden spells. Finding nothing he picked it up, jostling the augurey who screeched and relocated to his shoulder.

At his touch the wood started to vibrate slightly before settling down. After waiting for more, he lowered it back into the box.

"An interesting combination – I didn't know runespoor eggshells could be used as a wand ingredient," he said. "The next one?"

Mykrew cleared his throat and picked up the second box.

"The next is the 11½" maple, with hydra gas sac," Mykrew announced. He flushed slightly at Voldemort's disbelieving glance, adding, "We should try several options, right My Lord? One never knows what works until one tries..."

Voldemort ignored the babbling, picking up the the dark wood. At his touch the wand hissed ominously, and a trail of dark green smoke seeped from the end to wind around his body. Mykrew quickly covered his nose, panicking as he watched the smoke.

"M-my Lord! I swear I didn't know this would happen, I did not intend to poison you!" he pleaded.

"Be quiet you fool," Voldemort snapped. "It isn't even poison. Though perhaps it could be considering it's core..."he murmured. Staring at the wand he flicked it in his hand several times, before placing it back in the box.

"While that wand is extremely interesting it isn't as powerful as I believe the Elder Wand to be. The last one?"

Harry felt his frustration rise; he knew his unfamiliarity with the man's personality would continue to be a problem during this project. His mind spun quickly, trying to formulate a plan before the man left.

Mykrew was extremely nervous – he hoped the last one would satisfy the tyrant so that the man would leave him and his son alone.

"The last one, ah...14½" birch, with amphista venom..."he stated, trying not to wince at the rare core.

Voldemort paused, staring silently at the wand. "Amphista...another term for the amphisbaena?" he asked.

"Yes, My Lord," Mykrew replied, also staring at the wand. It was quite beautiful, and the length made it stand out compared to the other two.

Voldemort picked it up; there was no outward display from the wand but his eyes widened slightly. Harry, hopeful that this was the one, drooped slightly when the man returned it to its box after another moment. After a moment he straightened with determination. He'd come up with a plan – one his father wouldn't like, but might solve their problems.

"Very interesting, Gregorovitch," Voldemort said. "While I'm not completely disappointed, I'm not yet satisfied. I'll return again soon to see your results, and I'll expect the same quality as these."

He jostled the augurey from his shoulder causing it flap away, and turned to apparate, but right at the moment of departure he felt the weight return.

Back in his workroom, Mykrew was frozen as he stared at the spot where Harry was just a moment ago.

"Oh Harry, you foolish boy" he whispered, "he'll surely discover you now, and then he'll kill you..."


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.

"speech"

'_thoughts_'

- _parseltongue _-

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Arriving a moment later in his study, Voldemort stared at the black bird sitting calmly on his left shoulder. Raising his wand he quirked an eyebrow at the bird, which turned its head sideways to focus one beady eye at him.

"Avada Kedavra," he murmured. The bird screeched in shock, quickly flapping its wings to doge the green jet of light. With a couple more flaps the bird landed on his right shoulder, calming as it focused its eye on the wand in his hand. Voldemort frowned, raising his wand again.

_-What is that thing?- _a hiss interrupted. Voldemort paused, then lowered his wand. The bird twittered softly; Voldemort curled his lip but ignored it in favor of answering.

_-It's an unwanted pest that belongs to the man making my new wand- _Voldemort said, turning to the large snake that was winding its way across the floor towards him. Reaching him, Nagini curled around his feet, staring up at the bird.

-_Can I eat it?-_ she asked curiously. The bird seemed to sense it's survival was the topic of discussion, as it chittered aggressively at the large snake and flew to hover above it. Nagini made a small snap towards it, and the bird swerved quickly out of the way.

-_If you can catch it- _Voldemort hissed back, amused at the posturing of the animals at his feet.

Suddenly Nagini lunged for the bird, who dodged her strike by quickly flapping to the side. With all of her strength behind the attack she couldn't stop her movement, and her fangs sunk firmly in Voldemort's ankle.

To his credit he didn't scream or yell, yet both Nagini and the bird quickly distanced themselves from him. Nagini returned to her daytime resting spot – a long black leather chaise that was positioned a few feet to the left of his desk and perpendicular to the fireplace. The bird fluttered overhead hesitantly before landing quickly on top of the bookcases that sat behind the desk to the right. After a moment he opened his eyes and unclenched his hand, the punctures from his fingernails healing rapidly.

With a dark glare towards his familiar he walked to his desk and sat in the large leather chair. '_I believe I have a meeting with Lucius and Severus in about 10 minutes, then after that I've scheduled a mass meeting at 11pm...' _he thought, flicking through his daily planner. He knew others would laugh, but he found it necessary to schedule his days thoroughly – it had become mandatory when he'd revealed himself as The Dark Lord, what with all of the political meetings and events he attended. The bird fluttered down and landed again on his shoulder, invading his space as it peered at his desk. Absentmindedly he pushed it away, and it settled on the back on the chair.

Looking at the day's events, he checked off **"Threaten Meet with Gregorovitch"** , briefly thinking about the wand situation.

_'I believe it's going well so far...the man has been cooperating, and the first round of results were better than I suspected...' _Voldemort smirked, setting his wand next to the planner as he steepled his hands in front of him. '_But he has self-preservation; he knows that tricking me would cost him his life. Perhaps in a couple of days I'll return and see what else he's created-' _his thoughts cut off abruptly at the loud cough to his right, which repeated and grew louder as he turned. The bird was coughing – Voldemort raised his eyebrows surprised – as if it was trying to throw up something?

Before he could speak the coughing reached a climax; his wand clattered onto the desk, covered in purple mucus that spread onto the open planner beneath it. He sucked in a breath, staring at his wand, then raised his eyes to the bird that was now calmly preening a feather. It was clear what the bird – no the mongrel! - had done, but the audacity of the creature stunned him speechless. To think that this bird would dare to eat his wand, and then cough it up onto his planner, staining the pristine pages with it's disgusting bodily fluids, was incomprehensible to him. Then the rage fell on him so strongly that he couldn't breathe, the air trapped in his constricted windpipe as he shakily picked his wand up from the desk. Nagini was silent for once on the chaise, as she watched the two anxiously.

"There will shortly be one less augurey in the world, I'm afraid..." he muttered, red eyes fixated on the feathered body perched behind him. Suddenly the bird took flight, flapping across the room towards the door of the study. "Avada Kedavra!" he hissed angrily, sending the spell quickly after it. Just when it seemed the bird was trapped the door opened to the face of Lucius Malfoy, who ducked the approaching feathered body and unknowingly missing the green spell by a hair.

"We've arrived, My Lord," he said distractedly, as he straightened and watched the bird fly down the hall. "What on earth was that thing..." he trailed off as he turned and caught the murderous expression on Voldemort's face. Swallowing he slowly entered the room and bowed, taking note of the purple fluid dripping down the man's hand. Severus, two steps behind him, also bowed and hoped he wouldn't be punished as well for Lucius' mistake.

* * *

Voldemort ran his hands through his curled hair, sighing heavily. He was tired – the Death Eater meeting had dragged on into the night, leaving him with only a couple of hours of sleep. While he didn't require as much sleep as the normal person, he still enjoyed the activity and had gotten used to sleeping in. His sleep had also been disturbed by his need to carry out punishment on the foul bird invading his home. The desire for revenge had kept him tossing and turning all night, his dreams plagued by a cackling feathered monster that held his precious wand in it's clenched claw. The added pain of waking up early meant he'd started off the day irritated, which was an ominous warning for the entire manor.

Knowing he was in a terrible mood he isolated himself in his study, canceling appointments so that he'd avoid torturing his followers. Instead he worked on some legislative policies, taking his anger out on the bills on his desk. The afternoon had passed quickly leaving Voldemort feeling satisfied as he finished revising the last of 3 bills. Returning his quill to the quill holder and closing his ink well, he noticed Nagini winding quickly towards his desk.

-_ Master!_ - she hissed quickly, - _ I have something to report!_ -

He held out his hand, allowing the large snake to arch onto it and curl around his shoulders.

- W_hat is it, my dear?_ - Voldemort asked cautiously.

While Nagini was extremely useful as a spy, she sometimes reported useless information as if it was direly important. He had no desire to hear about more of his followers having sex in the hidden alcoves of his manor; and yet he needed to know the individuals in order to punish them for daring to taint his property...

- _There was in intruder in your sleep-room last night,_ - she hissed darkly. Voldemort turned his head sharply, fixing her with a dark stare.

- _And why am I just now hearing of this intruder? In my very bedroom no less, which you are supposed to guard?_ - he asked, irritated. While he wasn't extremely worried, it was very rare for someone to trespass onto his property, especially into his private rooms.

- _I meant to tell you this morning! But then I caught a mouse, and fell asleep on the large boulder..._ - she trailed off sheepishly. Voldemort rolled his eyes at her, holding in a sigh. Sometimes Nagini couldn't fight her natural instincts, regardless of being an extremely intelligent snake.

- _Well?_ - he asked. - _Who was the intruder? What did he do?_ -

- _It was a boy_ – she replied.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. A boy? His mind started flickering through the possible suspects, but he let the snake continue.

- _He walked around the room, looking at the books on the shelf. Then he came and looked at you while you slept, _- she hissed angrily, baring her fangs at the memory. - _I would have bitten the boy for his impudence, but he used a spell on me! Then he left the room. _-

Voldemort shifted uncomfortably. It was odd for an intruder to simply watch him, and make no attempt to murder or harm him. It was especially worrying that the stranger then made it back out of his room without waking him, to wander and snoop through his manor unsupervised. It made him wonder what the boy had found, and who he reported to.

- _Anything else? What did he look like? _- he asked. He leaned forward with his full attention on his familiar.

- _He was small with dark clothing, maybe a hatchling? But I could not see him fully as he moved around because of the spell _– Nagini answered. - _Maybe he will return tonight, will you trap him Master?_ -

Voldemort tapped his chin, planning and discarding various options. - _I will try to catch this boy. I'll wait and pretend to sleep, and you will lay next to me. When you sense that he's here, you will tell me, __**stealthily**_– he insisted.

Nagini hissed in agreement, then settled to sleep on his shoulders. But he couldn't relax as easily, now extremely aware of his surroundings and the noises that echoed through the study from the open bay window behind him. He made note that Nagini never mentioned seeing the intruder again; he could still be in the house, lurking and snooping in forbidden places. A motion to his left caught his eye – the augurey was resting on a perch that he'd conjured earlier this morning, and it's wings were fluttering gently as it watched some small birds chirp outside of the window.

Voldemort sighed as he watched the bird – it was ironic and annoying that his house elves were transforming his manor to meet the needs of this unwanted guest, and he had yet to get his revenge.

But back to the boy, he wondered who it was. The only young men he knew were children of his Death Eaters, but he doubted that any had the skill to invade his rooms. '_Perhaps it's one of the younger Light supporters?' _Voldemort frowned at that. Surely one of his spies would know if the Light had such a strong member. With little information, he would just have to wait and see the intruder for himself.

Settled in his decision for now, Voldemort mentally prepared for his visitor, thinking of different ways he could go about catching the intruder.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I almost forgot to update - I got carried away playing Pokemon and I like to update before I go to sleep... ^^;

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.

"speech"

'_thoughts_'

- _parseltongue _-

* * *

That night Voldemort was confident yet filled with anticipation as he prepared for bed. Hours earlier he'd gone into his private potion stores and taken an obscure potion - one that would allow his spirit to separate from his body and observe the physical world. While an observer would think him asleep, he would really be in a deep trance that enabled him to access his spiritual form. To activate the process he just had to mediate, and the potion would pull him deeper.

Smirking slightly, he removed his outer robe, leaving him in his standard black silk pajama bottoms, and pulled back the sheets.

- _Remember, Nagini, the moment you detect the intruder, squeeze my hand._–

- _Of course, Master_ – she replied, slipping under the covers before him. Once she was settled he laid down and pulled the sheets to his chest, hiding the snake. With one last glance around the room he started to meditate, hoping to fall deeply into the trance before the intruder arrived.

Minutes or hours later he faintly felt snake scales on his palm. Slowly he reached for his spiritual body and opened his eyes. It was a delicate process, making sure that he only controlled his spirit without changing his physical state. If he put too much thought to it his physical body would wake up, breaking the trance and startling the intruder. But gradually his eyes opened, and with no sudden movements from his guest he determined he was successful.

He first noticed the intense color of the boy's eyes. They were such an interesting shade of green, like faceted emeralds that glimmered to his heightened eyesight. And the face, the face was extremely familiar...While he couldn't immediately place it, he put that aside and continued his study. The boy - or young man – had lightly tanned skin, with long black eyelashes that fluttered each time he blinked. Although wearing a hood, his hair seemed to be thick and messy, as Voldemort could tell from the strands of loose curls that framed his face. It wasn't the most beautiful face he'd seen, but there was something about the gentle curve of the cheek, or the slight upturn of the nose, that had him pausing briefly before continuing his examination.

As he took in the boy's appearance he noticed the thoughtful look on his young visitor's face. Deciding to study the boy from a different angle, he focused on his spirit form and rose to hover over the bed. Glancing down he saw his own ghostly appearance, but knew that no one else could see him.

Focusing again, he noticed the boy's attire. The clothing was simple – a navy blue hooded capelet covered most of his upper body along with the rest of his hair, with a grey long-sleeved knitted shirt under that. His black linen pants were tucked into knee high black boots, and were just tight enough to highlight his lithe frame. Voldemort pulled his eyes from the leather-clad calves, changing his guess of the boy's age from youth to young adult. He estimated that the boy was at least the same ages as Lucius' son, around 17 or 18 years old.

Voldemort stared, as the boy reached towards his sleeping face. Surely he wasn't about to be molested by a boy barely old enough to drink! _'I wouldn't mind of course – he's quite good looking – but it won't be while I'm lying here helpless!'_ he griped.

"He looks so calm," the boy whispered, and touched his forehead and nose. A vague echo of the touch traveled to his spirit form, and Voldemort tried to repress his body's reaction, though he couldn't hide everything. His physical body shifted slightly, and the boy quickly backed away from the bed. Voldemort sighed, forcing his thoughts away from how pleasant the touches were. They were innocent and curious, and had surprisingly aroused him. Yet he couldn't think about that, or else he would lose the trance.

As the boy moved about the room, he considered possible motives. _'It doesn't seem like he's going to try to kill me,'_ he mused, floating after the small figure that was examining the bookcases. The octagonal bedroom was very spacious, with several floor-to-ceiling windows that broke up the walls of bookcases. It was a very bright room during the day, and the light blue and cream color scheme was not one that people would expect of the Dark Lord.

_'Maybe he's here to spy? He seems curious, not like a thief snooping for plans...' _he added.

Voldemort watched as he opened the curtained french doors that led out to the study. The room was still dark, but the boy moved around it as if he'd been there before. It was another interesting yet puzzling clue that he took note of, yet he still didn't recognize him. As the boy headed to his desk he had to reconsider his assumptions. Voldemort was slightly anxious – most of his plans were written in Parseltongue and there was no chance of the boy understanding, but the bills he'd worked on earlier were in English. Maybe that was the boy's task? To study upcoming government bills and report back to his opposition?

Once again he was baffled as the boy completely passed the rolled bills, instead reaching for his day planner. As he flipped through the pages, Voldemort could hear the boy muttering to himself, and sometimes sniggering lightly. _'What's so amusing about my planner?'_ he wondered angrily.

"He even writes like a Dark Lord!" the boy teased. "**'March 15th: Torture Lucius for losing vote on bill 15'** - aww, poor Lucius..." he added, flipping absently through past months.

"I know – I'll leave him a note," the boy said, smirking. _'You impudent brat!'_ Voldemort mentally raged. _' You're ruining my accuracy! And don't say "Poor Lucius", the man deserved it for failing me! I change my mind about finding you attractive!'_

He watched with frustration as the boy chose one of his good quills – his bill writing quill! - and dipped it in the inkwell. Then he flipped to a random page towards the back of the planner and hunched over the paper. Voldemort quickly floated behind the brat to see the words and only caught a glimpse – **'Have a good day Voldie!'** - before the boy closed the planner, chuckling. He didn't even see the date, but the boy was already heading towards the door.

Floating there next to the desk, he fiercely held on to the last threads of his patience, fighting against the urge to return to his body and curse the brat. He focused on the goal of this mission – to figure out the boy's identity and purpose - using it to strengthen his resolve. '_He must have a goal - and I doubt he came all this way to play a prank, no matter how distasteful...' _he thought, eyebrow twitching.

With the pep-talk repeating in his mind he located the brat, who'd made it down the hallway, and followed closely. The boy was certainly looking for something, but seemed to get distracted by each room that they passed. His personal library was lingered over until the boy forced himself away, while his potions closet was glanced at briefly.

Voldemort snorted as he followed the boy, irritated at the progress yet also relieved. If the brat had paid more attention in the potions closet he would have seen clues to Voldemort's current ghostly state - he was grudgingly grateful for the brat's ignorance, even if he was annoyed. His main irritation stemmed from the fact the boy seemed to have no intense goal in mind. He was wandering about Voldemort's manor, sticking his little button nose into the Dark Lord's business with no fear of being caught. And Voldemort had assumed that this intruder had some grand master plan to sabotage him…

He realized he'd missed something important when he noticed they'd arrived in one of the many parlor rooms that was located on the same floor of his bedroom. The boy was already crouched down on his hands and knees, with his head in the fireplace, and murmuring in low tones to whoever was on the other side.

He muttered several curses and pulled his eyes from the tight backside that was pointed in his direction, and floated closer to the fireplace to eavesdrop on their conversation. Now was not the time to get distracted by lust, no matter how enticing said body was!

"Of course I'm fine, father, nothing's happened! Although he has been shooting dark looks at me lately…" the boy whispered. Voldemort lifted an eyebrow - he'd remember seeing this face if they'd met earlier in the manor. What could he be talking about? '_Unless he was disguised as someone else?_' Voldemort wondered suspiciously.

He ran over all of the people he'd seen, but there were just too many faces if he included all of those at the Death Eaters meeting. He didn't know all of his followers well enough to recognize if one of them was acting strange.

He missed a couple more words from the boy, but the caller's response - or rather the voice - made his brow furrow. It tingled in the back of his mind, and the name of the voice's owner was just escaping memory. As he thought he distantly heard the conversation continue.

"...It's going well I guess...I think I need one more ingredient but it should be done by tomorrow?" the boy replied. "Hopefully it is, I think the snake is suspicious of me. But other than that our plan is still in place."

And now they were talking about ingredients? '_Is he making a deadly poison to slip me?_' he thought.

The corner of his eye caught the shine of the fire on Nagini's scales as she slowly entered the room, and Voldemort was filled with frustration. He couldn't warn her away from attacking the intruder, an action he would normally encourage, and he still didn't know his identity. On top of that, he could feel his concentration fading; the potion was wearing off, and his body was determined to finally sleep.

'_Dammit_!' He scowled darkly, forced to watch as Nagini inched closer. At least if she killed the boy, he could spend several days examining the body, he tried to console himself.

"Alright father, I'll-" the boy stopped as he finally noticed the snake a few feet away. "I have to go - talk to you tomorrow! Bye!" he said quickly and ended the firecall.

"Nice snake," he continued softly. Voldemort could see the whites of his eyes as they darted around the room looking for an escape. There was none - Nagini was blocking the door, and Voldemort knew her strike would get the boy before he could get past her.

The boy took a deep breath - what was he doing? - and then too late Nagini lunged, and Voldemort stared at her mouth full of feathers as a black bird whirled above her. An augurey. He choked, an automatic reaction even though he didn't need to breathe as a ghost, and watched the familiar bird mock the snake hissing on the floor.

Before he could determine just how he felt, realizing that the spy had been there _all along_, his vision blurred as he was pulled through the walls back towards his body. His last thoughts before he fell into an exhausted sleep: '_That little brat!_' and then: '_Gregorovitch has a son?_'


	6. Chapter 6

Hi again! Thank you everyone for your reviews! Sorry for the late update, my friends came over for the weekend so I didn't get any writing done...I'm behind for the next chapter, but hopefully I'll get back to my normal schedule. I'm so behind I haven't even responded to reviews... T^T I started a new job and I'm taking a couple of new writing courses, not to mention the other studying I have to do, but I'm going to do my best to catch up! Hwaiting~~!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.

"speech"

'_thoughts_'

- _parseltongue _-

* * *

Voldemort stared at the reports in front of him but his eyes occasionally drifted past them to the perch in the corner. The bird had just flown in through the window, and was settling down to sleep. He'd panicked a little when he'd woken up to the empty perch, thinking the boy sneaked out in the night; he was relieved when he felt the gust of air as the bird fluttered past him that afternoon, though he was still baffled about last night's discovery.

He'd woken up confused, before suddenly remembering what had happened and sitting up quickly. His eyes had snapped to the bird immediately - the bird that was sleeping peacefully as if nothing had happened. He'd reached for his wand, thinking of ending the mystery but eventually decided to wait until the evening.

It was hard but not extremely challenging for him to act as he normally would. Though he definitely looked tired, he was as sharp as normal. Lucius had made the mistake of commenting on his appearance and had painfully learned that his health and magical strength was as powerful as ever. But as the afternoon wore on, he found himself returning to thoughts of the boy and how their confrontation would go.

'_I doubt he has the experience or skill to brew a poison_,' he thought. Brushing the feather of the quill against his bottom lip, he cast another quick glance to the snoozing bird to his left. '_Then again, he's an animagus at - what, 17, 18? Who knows what else he can do..._' He had nothing to go on, no information about the boy or his purpose here; he hadn't even known that the boy existed until last night. His only facts were that he was forcing the father to make a wand, and that the son was an animagus.

'_I'll get my answers tonight,_' he thought, then stood to go eat dinner. At his motion the bird jerked awake, and fluttered to his shoulder as he left his study. He bore in silence, though a muscle in his jaw twitched at the audacity of the creature.

Dinner was pretty silent, with both the animals glaring silently at each other from opposite sides of the table. They could probably tell that he was not in the mood to witness their bickering. '_But why would Gregorovitch send his son to spy on me?_' he thought again as he slowly cut his steak. '_Is this part of some research for the wand he's making? That reminds me, I should go visit him tomorrow. I wonder if he'll come clean about his son..._'

_- Master, will you kill the bird-human tonight?- _Nagini hissed, breaking the silence. She'd paused in her glaring to wind up the back of his chair, and now rested across his shoulders.

- _I might, but I must first find out why he's here,_- he responded. A glance at the end of the table told him the bird was still sitting quietly on the back of a chair.

- _Will we set another trap for it, Master? _- Nagini asked.

- _No Nagini, you stay out of it's way, _- he said. - _I will catch him myself._-

He was looking forward to the confrontation, and excited to face the boy directly. The evening seemed like it was crawling by, but finally it was time for bed. Slipping under the sheets, he silently created an illusion of himself sleeping, then settled in to wait. It was somewhat uncomfortable to force himself into a still position, but he would be patient. This time, there would be no fancy potions or tricks; he would just wait for the boy to reveal himself and follow him. Staring up at the ceiling he reviewed his questions as he waited for the boy to make his move. He heard Nagini settling into her normal sleeping spot - a large wicker basket that could fit a doberman, with several plump silk cushions that spilled out of it. Her light hissing lulled him into a doze until he woke up an hour later with a jolt, and remembered his incoming visitor.

He heard light footsteps in the corner of the room, then saw a figure approach. His eyes focused on the boy hovering above him, taking in the subtle details of the shifting green eyes and the light pink chapped lips. Once again the boy slowly moved to touch his cheek, the feather-light touch trailing down to stop at his chin. He didn't understand - was the boy fascinated with his face? Was he a follower with a childish infatuation, who only had the nighttime in which to act on his feelings?

"If only we could spend more time together," the boy whispered. "I'd like to get to know you more, even if you are a cruel bastard..." Voldemort quirked an eyebrow, the motion hidden by the illusion. Such cheek - it annoyed and intrigued him, but he wondered if the boy would have the same attitude when they spoke directly.

He stayed a moment longer, eyes darting as if he was memorizing Voldemort's features. Then he turned and quietly moved towards the doors, being careful to slowly ease them open to avoid squeaking hinges. He didn't know that his efforts in stealth were in vain, that Voldemort was already up and following close behind him. His path led him past Nagini's basket, and he motioned for her to stay behind when he saw her move.

They didn't travel very far - Voldemort had expected a return to the same sitting room of last night, but they stopped again in his study. He prayed the boy wouldn't tamper with his planner again; the night would be over very quickly if he ended up torturing the boy before he even questioned him. Speaking of the boy, he was was still unaware of Voldemort's presence, so focused on removing a long thin box from an inner coat pocket. Voldemort quickly examined it - it looked similar to the boxes in Gregorovitch's workroom. '_Maybe the boy is just delivering the next wand...did he fly back to his father's house to pick it up earlier today?_' he wondered. Now the questions were starting to pile up, and his patience wore out.

The boy was opening the door that led out into the hall. He jumped when it slammed shut, then again when he noticed the arm coming from over his shoulder to keep the door closed.

"Leaving already?" Voldemort asked. He took a step closer, noticing the boy shiver at his body heat. "I'd like to speak with you, if you have the time," he added. He leaned down to catch the boy's reaction - tightly closed eyes and a deep breathe, then a jerky nod.

"Excellent. Let's start with who you are and why you're here," he ordered. "Come, sit."

The boy turned under his watchful stare and sat on the edge of the seat in front of his desk. His fingers twisted and worried the hem of his green sweater. Voldemort let him have the moment while he locked the door, then returned to the desk and leaned against the front edge. It put him extremely close to the boy, closer than was appropriate between strangers. The boy shrank back, before straightening in the chair.

"My father Mykrew wanted me to deliver this wand to you," the boy said.

"In the middle of the night?" Voldemort asked while smiling slightly. He raised an eyebrow, and the boy shifted in his seat. Yet he held to his story, amusing Voldemort with his persistence.

"He wanted you to have it as soon as possible, to get your opinion…" the boy added.

"Hm. And your name?" he asked. He would get as much information as he could the gentle way, and then they would try again with more forceful techniques.

"Harvey."

The boy glanced to the side as he spoke, and Voldemort's eyes narrowed. He didn't call the boy on his suspicious behavior, deciding to examine the box first. He'd return to the question later; he'd have to teach the boy the consequence of lying to him.

Sliding open the box, he picked up the light brown piece of wood. The stick had two carvings on the base, which were followed by straight lines that traveled down to the tip. He wondered about the ingredients - a faint hum reached his ears as he held it, and it felt familiar to him.

"Did he say what it's made of? I'd like to know the combination, even if it doesn't work," he mentioned.

"It doesn't work?" the boy said doubtfully, and snatched the wand from his hands. "How strange…"

Voldemort's mouth dropped open slightly, but he snapped it shut and glared at the boy.

"You need a lesson in manners, boy," he snarled, snatching the wand back. He stared as it disappeared again from his hands just as quickly.

"But it should work! What was wrong?" the boy asked while ignoring his threat.

"Give that back you rude little cretin!" he hissed and stood to round the desk.

The boy also stood, switching his gaze between him and the wand. "If it doesn't work why should you get to keep it?" he asked absently. Voldemort clenched his teeth, but tried to stay calm.

"I doubt you know anything about its defects, so give it back and I'll return it to your father."

Why did he have to explain himself to this boy? And why wasn't this conversation going the way he imagined it would? It'd been so long since someone refused his orders; part of him reveled in the challenge, while another part gnashed its teeth. Tired of the conversation, he shot a silent Stupefy at the boy. He didn't expect the boy to dodge it, or to run over to the windows behind the desk. Opening them quickly, he hesitated at seeing the large drop from the second story window to the ground.

Voldemort smirked - the boy wouldn't escape this time! But the boy still jumped out, and his smirk fell from his face. Rushing to the windows he saw a black bird gaining distance from the manor. '_No!_' he thought angrily, quickly flying into the air after it, black tendrils of smoke streaming after his immaterial form.

He was catching up to the boy, but he was still out of reaching distance. All of his silent spells were dodged as the bird swooped erratically. They were getting close to the forest, which also marked the end of the wards - he had to catch him before then.

Getting even closer, Voldemort glanced back and forth from the bird to the approaching forest. Right as they reached the treeline his hand brushed soft feathers and he tightened his grip, but he slowed down just past the forest entrance when the weight disappeared. He looked down at the loose feathers in his hand, then further down to the now-transformed boy who landed on the ground hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs. A moment later the boy recovered and apparated away with his eyes squinted shut.

Stopping and landing on a thick branch, he slammed his fist against the tree trunk. He ignored the slight pain from the splintered wood, filled with anger.

'_This is the second time he's gotten away,'_ he fumed. His eyes widened and a moment later he apparated away, arriving in Gregorovitch's living room; it was empty of furniture, nothing but bare walls greeted him. With growing agitation he stormed through the small house, ripping open doors only to see bare spaces lacking furniture or anything else.

The final place he checked was the workshop that he'd seen the last time he was there. The empty shelves were definite proof that Gregorovitch had left - he wouldn't have left the pride of his life behind if he was never coming back. Voldemort growled as he walked through the small antechamber and into the larger room beyond it - it seemed to be the actual workspace, with empty shelves that had probably held various ingredients and tools.

'_That little worm fled!'_ Voldemort sneered, his eyes restlessly darting from one empty wall to another.

Finding no clues around the room, Voldemort returned to his study and the scene of his other frustration.

"Argh!"

His shout brought Nagini out of the bedroom, but she stayed by doors as she took in his enraged face. He still had the feathers he'd ripped from the boy's animagus form; he glanced down at the crumpled pieces then threw them away from him with a sneer. He then kicked over the chair in front of his desk; seeing the empty wandbox he threw it to the floor and set it on fire.

"And that brat!" he continued to shout. "How dare he defy me! And I didn't get his real name!"

Falling silent he silently cleaned up the mess from his tantrum then sat on the end of the chaise. Nagini curled up next to him and he started to pet her as he thought over the evening.

'_That didn't go at all the way I planned,'_ he thought. '_I underestimated him, and it made me sloppy. But now I need a counter move - I won't let a child outsmart me….' _

He looked around the room again, trying to come up with a plan. His eyes landed on a bent black feather that had landed near the desk but managed to avoid the fire.

'_Maybe….a Dark tracking charm, using essence of the target's body part….would a feather even work?'_ he thought with growing interest. He quickly stood, startling Nagini who was settling back into sleep, and collected the crushed plumage that was scattered over the floor.

His mind was racing with possible modifications to the tracking spell - it would be challenging to get the right proportion of feather needed for success, and he had a limited supply of them, but he was confident that he could manage it. He headed to the library to research; he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight with the action so fresh in his mind.

Nagini watched him leave the room - she recognized the same gleam in his eye that he got whenever something fascinated him. Flicking her tongue, she wound her way to the floor towards the bedroom and her bed. She knew she'd find him the dusty-room in the morning, asleep on a table.


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you everyone for the reviews! I've somewhat caught up, though now I've been distracted by several anime series...it's been so long since I've watched anime, so now I just want to watch all day and catch up with all my favorites! Unfortunately it's not possible... : Please enjoy the next chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.

"speech"

'_thoughts_'

- _parseltongue _-

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was not all-knowing. But he was extremely lucky, and usually benefited from it several times each day. For instance, that morning he decided on strawberry jam and happened to avoid the school-wide prank that was placed on the cherry preserves. He also chose to take his morning walk outside instead of the castle, and therefore missed the horrible stench that swept through every floor due to a potions accident. Back in his office after his walk, he worked through several stacks of paperwork that had built up throughout the week when someone knocked on his door. Albus looked up from his papers, surprised.

"Come in," he said curiously. He didn't have any appointments scheduled so the guest would be a sudden visitor. Hopefully it wasn't someone from the Board of Governors who would waste his time with unreasonable requests and complaints. He could use the hidden mirror that would reveal the person behind the door, but sometime Albus liked to be surprised, whether for better or worse.

Kingsley Shacklebolt entered quickly, saying, "Morning Albus."

"Good morning Kingsley!" Albus said with a smile. His luck was continuing to reward him. "What brings you here? Would you like some tea? Sherbet lemon?"

"No thanks, I'm just stopping quickly. Headin' to the Ministry after this," Kingsley said.

Albus gestured to the chair in front of his desk, and Kingsley sat down.

"So what can I do for you?" Ablus asked.

Kingsley frowned and played with a tassel on his robes. "Well Albus, a number of shady figures have been spotted loitering in Diagon Alley over the past few days," he started.

Albus settled back in his chair, stroking absently on his beard. "I take it you mean a number of people who we know support Voldemort?" he asked.

"Yes, indeed. Several known supporters as well as a few that we've suspected but not caught officially," Kingsley said.

"Interesting," Albus said. "I haven't heard anything recently about him planning something big…"

"I haven't either," Kingsley shrugged. "But I wanted to update you just in case."

"Yes, thank you," Albus murmured. He continued to stare out of the side windows, nodding quietly as Kingsley left for work.

It was a bit worrying that there were so many dangerous people lurking in the Alley, but he couldn't call for support with such little evidence. The Auror Department would be aware of the situation, but they wouldn't arrest wizards just because of their political alliances. Tom's known activities were mostly legal, and they didn't have official proof of his illegal maneuverings. He was covering his tracks well. Most people didn't even suspect that a Dark Lord lived in their midst, and Tom didn't admit it unless he knew all witnesses and controlled the situation completely.

Albus sighed quietly and stood from his desk. He walked over to Fawkes's perch and stroked the bird's plumage gently. It was a situation that needed to be observed carefully.

"Maybe I'll take a short visit to the Alley today," he murmured to Fawkes. The bird trilled at him and nuzzled his hand. Albus nodded.

* * *

Harry paced along the one free wall of the room. Even with magic helping them enlarge the space, it was still very cramped with the two twin beds and cooking appliances. The rest of the floor space was taken up by boxes that overflowed with all their furniture and items from the wand workroom. Footsteps coming up the stairs paused just outside the door, then he heard the murmured unlocking spell that only he and his father knew. The older man slipped into the room, coming up short as he suddenly faced his son.

"Would you calm down? Pacing won't help anything," he grumbled. Harry didn't like his father's voice, which sounded different due to the translation spell they was under. And he thought the English words were clumsy and thick compared to their normal smooth German. But he didn't complain about it - his father had gotten tired of his whining on the first day.

Harry shrugged and waited for the man to reach his bed before continuing to walk along the wall. He knew it wore on his father's already short nerves, but he had no other way to express his anxiety. He'd always thought that running from Voldemort wouldn't be worth the trouble and he'd told his father; yet when he'd flown back home to collect the ingredients for the fourth wand he found his father stubbornly packing their things.

And now they were crammed into the cheapest apartment they could find in a muggle neighborhood in England. It was dark and damp, and a mouldy smell was constantly in the air. The cramped space only heightened his paranoia that Voldemort was lurking around a corner somewhere. Just thinking about his fear brought back memories of his confrontation with the man which had taken place two nights ago.

However he had imagined their conversation to go, the reality was far more intense. Voldemort had been threatening and dangerous of course; Harry knew the man had the power to make him suffer with the barest of effort, and it had been luck that had helped him escape. But he hadn't witnessed the power he's heard of - he'd seen a demanding man, whose intelligence was still visible through the thick mask of arrogance he constantly wore. He was definitely dangerous, but Harry suspected the man had held back from inflicting pain.

He'd been lulled into security by the man's appearance and passive attitude; he had talked back to the Dark Lord with confidence and even dismissal! Yet he hadn't been cursed. It terrified him to think of the revenge the man might pursue. But it also thrilled him. He wanted to know how far he could push the man before he turned to violence to get results. Not that he wanted the pain - he just wanted to play! And a part of him wanted to truly know Voldemort, to know what was behind the title of Dark Lord. Harry blinked quickly, pushing those thoughts away to focus. They were too dangerous, and he couldn't have his father find out about his wayward thoughts.

"Anyway, I want to go to Ollivander's today," he said. "I think we should make our move now while we can - we don't know when Voldemort will find us, and I'd like to have an answer if he asks about the wand."

"And I still think it's a horrible idea - why do you need to ask Ollivander as well? I told you why it didn't work." Mykrew retorted. "We've escaped him for now, we should continue hiding for as long as we can."

"But I don't want to hide forever!" Harry argued. "And I'd like another opinion on it. It's not that I don't believe you, but he's also a respected wandmaker, even if you don't like him." He turned and stared at his father, and the silence built up around them until the air in his lungs felt like it would explode outward. But Mykrew gave in, sighing heavily.

"Fine, let's go this afternoon. We should go now, and then come back and plan our next move."

Harry nodded silently, then grabbed his coat from his bed. He was disappointed that his father still wanted to run away, but he understood the man's reasoning. In reality there was no way they could fight against Voldemort head on; the man probably knew more than they could imagine. But Harry knew he couldn't continue this way - barely two days had passed and already he felt like he was going mad with fear and desperation. Maybe this was Voldemort's punishment? To live in fear for the rest of his life?

'_I'll think about it later,'_ he thought, as they made their way down the stairs and out into the dark alleyway. '_Just focus on the wand like I always do.' _He held his father's arm and the man apparated them away, arriving in a dingy side-street. Harry glanced around and recognized it as Knockturn Alley from his father's stories.

They were silent as they walked to the mouth of the alley, but his father stopped and grasped his shoulder right before they passed into the main street.

"We should raise our hoods here," he muttered. His eyes were darting around to take in the people passing ahead of them.

"We'll look suspicious! No one will hesitate to stop us for questioning!" Harry said.

"No one will stop us," Mykrew said strongly. "They might be suspicious but they won't do anything. And if they know what we look like the hood will be good protection."

Harry didn't argue, pulling his hood over his head. His father knew more about the Alley than he did, so he would take the older man's advice. As they walked into the main street he noticed several other people with hoods drawn and relaxed a bit - maybe it wasn't that suspicious.

As they walked quickly down the street Harry tried to take in all of the shops on both sides. His head was turning quickly under his hood as they passed an apothecary and Quidditch supply shop. He pushed back the bitterness and anger as they left the stores behind; he'd always wanted to play Quidditch but was never allowed because of all of his father's rules, and now that he was finally close to a store they didn't have time. Then he remembered why they were in a rush, and the curiosity died inside him.

They passed several more stores that he half-heartedly glanced at, before arriving at a dingy corner shop titled, "**Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C."**. Pausing outside, Harry glanced over at his father. The older man was frowning harshly and muttering as he stared at the grimy windows. Harry rolled his eyes before taking the lead and entering the store. Neither noticed several hooded figures lingering nearby that left in opposite directions after they entered.

The air inside was slightly stale and everything looked second-hand, but Harry took no notice. The moment he entered he heard the familiar hum of wands, yet the sound was slightly different from those in his workshop. Dazed, he turned to the wall of boxes and stared into space as he listened to the different voices.

"Good afternoon, how might I help you?" a shaky voice asked from the rear of the shop. An old man slowly emerged from the shadows and watched Harry as he moved from box to box. He opened his mouth again when the ring of the bell above the door made him pause. The old man stared at the hooded figure that entered, then frowned when the hood was removed.

"Ah...Gregorovitch," he said stiffly. "Here to...purchase a wand?"

Mykrew clenched his teeth, but answered calmly. "No thank you Ollivander," he said. "I wondered if you could take a look at a wand my son made, and give your professional opinion on it's faults."

"Your son?" Ollivander repeated disbelievingly.

Mykrew nodded, gesturing towards Harry who was still staring at several boxes. Ollivander huffed then turned away.

"I suppose it's fine, since the store has been slow today. Come along, young man," he called to Harry.

"Be there in a moment, this one has an interesting story about the time you almost drowned while bringing it back from Greece…." he answered distractedly.

Ollivander paused with raised eyebrows, but moved towards the door at the back of the shop with Mykrew behind him.

"Yes while he's doing that let's discuss that article you wrote 2 months ago - the one that criticized the wand I made for Vicktor Krum…" Mykrew said with a forced smile.

The two old men waited by the door, forgetting about Harry as they got into the debate. He paid no attention to their departure and growing argument as he listened to the Olive branch describe the muggle pirates that had captured their boat. Who knew that olive trees had their own version of seasickness? Harry chuckled at the branch's disgruntled chatter, hearing the bell over the door ring but ignoring it.

There was a slight lull in the argument behind him that he vaguely noticed. But then he was gripped by the shoulders and spun around harshly, becoming light-headed at the speed and breathless from the force that pushed him against the shelves. He opened his mouth to angrily complain but choked on air as he recognized the red eyes staring maliciously into his own. The familiar white wand was pointed at his face, but he could only see the man towering over him.

"We finally meet again, my little thief," Voldemort said, his voice low and harsh.

Harry gulped fearfully and tried to shrink away, but the boxes on the shelves pressed into his back.

"There'll be no escape this time," Voldemort promised darkly and raised his wand, when Ollivander interrupted.

"Mr. Riddle! What a surprise," he said calmly, as if he hadn't witnessed the threatening behavior.

Voldemort paused, and the wand lowered slightly. He turned to the old man, sneering when he saw Mykrew cringing behind the counter, but switched back to English.

"...Ollivander. Nice to see you. And Gregorovitch...how nice to catch up with wayward friends," he murmured. Mykrew flinched, but Voldemort continued. "I won't hold you up, Ollivander. These two have something that belongs to me, which I intend to retrieve today, no matter what."

Ollivander glanced back at Mykrew, then smiled slightly at Voldemort. "Ah I see. Well young Mr. Gregorovitch was just stopping by to receive my advice I believe. We'll just get through that quickly and you all can leave together. Why don't you join the three of us in the back?"

Harry saw the tick start above Voldemort's left eyebrow, but the man glanced at him darkly and stepped away. His hand was still tightly gripping Harry's shoulder, allowing for no chance of escape.

"Fine, I'll join your little gathering," he drawled. "Shall we?" he asked and steered Harry roughly towards the back door.

"Wait! I-" Harry started, resisting the pull. The others turned towards him, and he swallowed thickly.

"I just want to say goodbye...to the olive branch?" Harry said hesitantly.

"What are you-" Voldemort started angrily, but Ollivander interrupted again.

"What a thoughtful young lad!" he said cheerfully. "So unlike his father. You do that, we'll just head back there now."

Voldemort's mouth snapped shut, and he glared from Harry to Ollivander, who was staring at him quietly.

"Do be quick," he bit out, shoving Harry away from him. Harry was sure the man's teeth were grinding as he walked away.

"Come join us when you're done," Ollivander called to him, before leading the two tense wizards away.

When they were no longer visible Harry sighed heavily and slid to the floor, curling around his arms around his knees and bowing his head.

'_This is the worst that could happen…'_ he thought miserably. His hands were still shaking from the residual fear, and he tried to control his breathing. As his breath sped up and his eyes started to moisten, the bell above the door rang again as an old man with a long white beard and bright blue eyes entered the store.


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you everyone for the reviews! FYI, the reviewer wowow has started translating this story into Chinese! How exciting~~ ^.^ Here's the link for it if anyone wants to know! p /2943911941/ I'll also put it in my profile without spaces!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.

"speech"

_'____thoughts__'_

_-____parseltongue__-_

* * *

Harry stared at the man who was glancing around the room. He seemed incredibly old, with silver hair and a long beard that reached past his stomach. He wore a bright yellow robe that had silver shooting stars flying across the fabric - Harry winced at the color, but admired the creativity and magic that went into the garment.

Then the man turned to look at him, and Harry was startled by the man's intense stare. His face was kind, but his eyes - light cornflower blue - were bright and sharp behind his half-moon glasses. They were silent as they examined each other, Harry with growing nervousness and the old man with increasing intensity. Then the tension broke as the man smiled.

"Hello, young man. Who might you be?" he asked politely.

"Harvey," he responded carefully.

"Harvey?" The man murmured. The blue eyes continued to study his face, then started to twinkle brightly.

"Ah, just so," he said with a smile.

Harry quirked an eyebrow at the man's response, but brushed it off. "Who are you, sir?" he asked.

The man chuckled. "Oh just an old man running errands," he said.

Harry frowned at the non-answer but decided the man seemed harmless enough.

"Are you here for a wand?" the man asked politely.

"No, I'm here to have Mr. Ollivander look at a wand I made...I really don't understand why it doesn't work," he muttered. "But I think he'll be able to help me, even if my father doesn't like him."

"I'm sorry, you made a wand?" The man asked with a surprised stare.

"Yeah - I make them all the time. I made my own wand too," Harry said proudly, pulling the smooth stick from his pocket. The light aspen wood always made him smile, especially the small dark swirling knot on the side close to the base.

"May I?" the old man asked. Harry shrugged and handed it over. The man probably wouldn't run away with it, and his hair inside it made it simple to sense and summon. The man held it steadily in his hands as he looked at it.

"Amazing!" he exclaimed. "Quite interesting...not what I would have expected, but to each their own, no doubt."

"Is it really that strange?" Harry asked. To him it was obviously perfect, but he knew everything about it, just as it surely knew more about him than anyone else. "What type of wand do you have?"

"That's a very personal question, young man." The old man leveled him with a solemn stare. "Most would not volunteer such information; a wand can reveal certain things about one's character, things that you might not want a stranger to know."

Harry looked down from the bright eyes and fiddled with his hands. There was a brief silence, and he thought he heard footsteps coming from the back room. The old man spoke up again and caught his attention.

"Take this wand for example," he said, pulling a long stick from his sleeve. It was unlike any wand Harry had ever seen, with round honeycomb baubles carved every couple of inches. Harry could hear an eerie faint wail that seemed to seep from the wand, and he shivered slightly.

"While it's not my original wand, it has over time become important to me. It's a very particular wand - one that does not work well with others, I'm unhappy to say."

The old man made no move to hand it to him, so Harry stepped closer to him. As he held up his hand, the wail grew louder until it was ringing in his ears. He briefly touched the wood, feeling the grooved texture, and for an instant a high shriek pierced his mind. Harry gasped and stumbled away from the wand and the old man, tripping over his feet. As he fell he heard the man ask, "Are you alright, my boy?"

Arms came around him and stopped his fall, and he saw Voldemort's profile from the corner of his eye. The man glanced at him quickly, taking in his appearance and expression, and turned towards the old man with a cold glare.

"Dumbledore," Voldemort sneered. "I'd say it's a pleasure, but why lie? What did you do to him?"

Harry figured he must have looked awful, or at least as shocked as he felt. He didn't know what to think, but tried to push the moment away to examine later. He gathered his composure - he wanted to watch the interaction between these two, as there seemed to be some history between them. '_Dumbledore as in Albus Dumbledore?_' he thought with surprise. He'd never seen the famed Hogwarts headmaster, though his father spoke of him occasionally.

"Tom," Albus said slowly. "Do you know this man?" he asked Harry while glancing between them. Voldemort caught the glance and let him go quickly.

"Don't play games, Dumbledore," Voldemort snarled. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," Dumbledore said, raising his hands. The wand was nowhere to be seen. Harry glanced at the man's voluminous sleeves then looked at the man's face. He seemed to be genuinely concerned, though his eyes were narrowed towards Voldemort.

"You must have, he looked like he was struck dumb," Voldemort scoffed. They paused, and Harry shifted awkwardly in the tense silence.

"Well since you won't admit anything, we'll take our leave. Come," Voldemort ordered and gestured for Harry to proceed. Harry looked between Voldemort and the old man, reluctant to go. Voldemort's face started to darken, and Albus spoke up.

"Is he forcing you? Threatening you in some way?" Albus asked quickly.

Harry was silent, yet his inner voice howled with frustration. '_There's nothing I can do...Father is still back there...'_ he thought anxiously.

"I'll thank you to keep your nose out of my business, Dumbledore!" Voldemort said angrily. "Don't you have an appointment with Ollivander?" he asked Harry stiffly. Harry could see the threat in his eyes, and nodded meekly.

"It's true, Sir, so I should go," he said to Dumbledore. "It was nice speaking with you."

Dumbledore watched him intently, then nodded. "You as well, my boy. Please don't hesitate to write me if you'd like to speak again."

Harry nodded, and turned away. He felt Voldemort close behind him and swallowed nervously. Glancing back once, he saw Dumbledore still standing near the entrance, staring after them with a deep frown on his face. And then they reached the door to Ollivander's workroom and walked through it; he felt like he was walking away from his only chance at safety from Voldemort's clutches. He didn't know what was between Albus Dumbledore and Voldemort, but he would be safe with anyone who was against the Dark Lord, right?

'_He called him 'Tom','_ Harry thought curiously. '_They must have an intense relationship...'_'

He then took notice of Ollivander's workroom and wrinkled his nose; it was more gloomy than his workroom back in Germany - there were no windows and there was a heavy musty smell that wouldn't leave his nose. Comparing the place to home brought on a strong wave of homesickness. He missed those peaceful times, but he was conflicted - would he trade his current life to return to repetitive days in their cottage? His life was definitely more busy now, and he considered it an improvement over sitting inside or in the garden all day. But his father surely thought differently. Harry's face fell briefly, but he threw a small smile on for his father who was glancing at him worriedly.

"Now that we're all here - have a seat you two," Ollivander said brightly, gesturing to the two empty chairs. They were right next to each other, close together in order to fit around the small round table. Harry sat down, his heart beating rapidly as Voldemort's leg brushed against his.

There was an awkward silence, Mykrew cleared his throat."Shall we get started?" he asked nervously. He glanced at Voldemort who was sitting across from him, then turned towards Harry.

"Indeed," Ollivander said. "May see the wand?" Harry pulled the stick from his coat and handed it to the man. "How impressive! A boy your age, crafting wands…" Ollivander murmured.

"What do you mean? The boy didn't make it, his father did," Voldemort interrupted boredly. Harry opened his mouth but stopped as his father gripped his thigh tightly.

"W-well you see, my son did make this wand, My Lord," Mykrew stuttered.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at the man, then glanced over to Harry. Harry lifted his chin and met the look with his own, slightly regretting his display when Voldemort's eyes narrowed further.

"But you made the other wands?" Voldemort asked Mykrew. The man hemmed and hawed, not meeting Voldemort's eyes.

"I made all of them," Harry interrupted. Voldemort jerked his head to stare at him. Harry shot him a cool glance then turned to focus on Ollivander, who was looking down the length of the wand.

"How very interesting! Yes, definitely not Mykrew's work, it's bold and unorthodox," he murmured, ignoring Mykrew's offended expression. "English Elm for the wood?" Harry nodded, and Ollivander's eyes shined.

"A very interesting choice. And this wand is for Mr. Riddle?" he asked. Again he ignored Voldemort's dark glare, accepting Harry's nod.

"It's funny," Ollivander mused. "Mr. Riddle's wand is made of yew - 13 ½" if I remember. Elm wood is very similar, and might have been yours in another lifetime…it can represent peace and happiness, but it can also mean death and negativity…or even revolution and hope for the future…" Ollivander stared unblinkingly at Voldemort, who seemed to be frozen in place.

"I just chose the wood that sounded right," Harry said, looking between them.

"Indeed! The very instinct of the wandmaker!" Ollivander exclaimed. "Now the core….I can't quite put my finger on it…"

Harry fought down a blush. "I took some venom from Voldemort's snake, powdered adze wings - and a strand of his hair…"

The three men were silent, then everyone spoke at once. Ollivander chuckled and removed the pince-nez from his face to wipe them with the corner of his shirt. "Well there's your problem! Wizarding hair isn't a proper wand core ingredient."

Mykrew snorted. "That's what I said, I don't see why you had to come here to hear it again," he grumbled to Harry.

"And when did you get a strand of my hair?" Voldemort snarled.

Harry ignored all of them. "My wand has a strand of my hair in it and it works fine," he stated firmly, once again pulling the stick from his pocket. Ollivander quieted mid-chuckle.

"...May I?" he asked curiously, holding out his hand. Harry silently handed it over.

"Well...I believe it works because you made it yourself," Mykrew harrumphed. "You have a particularly intense bond with it, so it makes sense…" he trailed off. Voldemort quirked an eyebrow, his anger apparently overwhelmed by curiosity as he leaned closer to get a better look at the wand.

Ollivander spent several moments silently examining it from different angles, then handed it back with a puzzled frown. "I suppose your father's theory has some merit," he admitted grudgingly. "Since you are its maker and owner, yours is the strongest bond. How curious - a strand of human hair as a wand core…."

The table fell silent as they all puzzled over the failed elm wand lying on the table. Harry fidgeted and glanced quickly over to Voldemort, who now had an intensely curious look in his eyes.

"I believe the problem lies either with the strand of hair or the snake venom," Ollivander said after a while. "The hair because you aren't the owner and so you don't know all of it's properties; or the snake venom because the animal has some physical or magical properties that we're unaware of."

"Nagini is a very mysterious snake - even I do not know her entire history, as she was almost an adult when I acquired her," Voldemort said with a shrug. Harry grit his teeth with frustration but didn't argue. '_I'm sure that bastard knows more about her than he's saying,'_ he thought angrily.

"Well that's as much as I can tell you," Ollivander said, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms over his stomach. Harry sighed glumly but nodded.

"Yes well. Now that we're done I believe it's time we depart," Voldemort said shortly as he stood from the table. He gripped Harry's arm and hauled him to his feet, shooting Mykrew a dark glare.

"Indeed," Ollivander agreed as he also stood. "If you gentlemen would be so kind - I have some projects I need to finish today."

Mykrew hesitated reluctantly, but glanced at his son sadly and moved to Voldemort's other side.

"Ollivander," Voldemort acknowledged with a nod. The elder man nodded back, his eyes staring at Harry.

"Please do stop by again," he said to Harry. "We'll have the most intriguing conversations about our shared craft."

Harry nodded, but couldn't say anything as his body was suddenly squeezed tightly. Voldemort apparated them from the small workshop and all three disappeared with a quick pop. Ollivander stared at the empty spot for several seconds, then turned and quietly shuffled into the store as he heard the bell over the door tinkle.


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you everyone for the reviews! This chapter is shorter than previous chapters, and the next chapter will probably be short as well – sorry! I had more hours at work last week, and this week I'm going to be training to take over someone else's job while they're on vacation...even more hours...x.x But hopefully you guys still enjoy the chapter! ^^

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.

"speech"

___'thoughts'_

___-parseltongue-_

* * *

They landed with a slight tremble on the carpeted floors of his public study - Voldemort chose it for meetings in which he needed guests to submit to his power. It was very flashy and intimidating with large dark furniture and blood-red curtains covering the floor to ceiling windows; it wasn't his personal style, but he had to admit that it gave results. And right now he wanted Gregorovitch and his spawn to understand who exactly was in charge of this meeting. He watched them stumble with an impassive stare then swept around the desk to the throne-like chair behind it. He leaned back in it and stared down his nose at them while he collected his thoughts. '_This changes everything - the boy has been making the wands all along,_' he mused. '_I should make him a follower...he'll come in handy when I need untraceable wands for certain projects..._'

As he thought of how to approach the two, his vacant stare was causing Harry to shuffle slightly in place. He had yet to offer them seats so they both stood awkwardly, but he paid their unease no mind. He was trying to decide the best tactic to get them securely on his side.

Finally he sighed and gestured to the space in front of his desk with his wand. Two plain wooden chairs appeared in front of it, and the two slowly took the offered seats. He sighed lightly, before starting on his manipulation.

"Gregorovitch. Why has your son been making my wands?" he asked. At his tone they both straightened in their seats, and he smirked inwardly.

"Well, My Lord, my son was better suited to take on your project….and I swore on my magic to never make wands again," Mykrew said quietly.

Voldemort lifted an eyebrow. "Why didn't you tell me you made such a serious vow?" he asked curiously.

"I-I didn't want to - disappoint you, My Lord," Mykrew got out.

There was a brief silence, and Voldemort hmmed softly. They all knew the man had agreed to avoid torture and death, and Voldemort knew he hadn't given the man any other option. But he wasn't going to say that out loud.

"Well I will say that the wands - Harvey was it? - made were quite impressive, and I'd like to continue on with this goal as it seems that both sides are equally invested in it. You, to say that you've made the wand that is stronger than the Elder Wand, and me since I desire your finished product. I think this will only work if both sides are **honest** and respectful of each other," he finished, sending them both a stern glare. He cackled inside at their cowed expressions and bowed heads - this was almost in the bag and just needed one final push.

"Of course I'll endorse Harvey's work as an up-and-coming wandmaker, if you're interested in making a name for yourself," he said casually. He watched from lowered lids as Harvey's face lit up. '_Gotcha,'_ he thought smugly.

He watched as the two sent several glances to each other. They seemed to come to a decision when Harvey nodded firmly. "I agree," he said quietly. "I'd like to continue this project and I think we'll make more progress if we're both in agreement."

Mykrew was still frowning but Voldemort ignored it, standing and offering his hand to Harvey.

"I agree. I propose that you both stay here until the project is complete - we'll then be able to get to know each other which can only help when making a custom wand, yes?" he said smoothly.

Harvey paused then nodded hesitantly. Voldemort smiled slightly and gestured for them to follow as he led them from his office. "Of course everything you might need will be provided - merely tell me and all efforts will be made to acquire it." He led them down several halls that twisted and branched off to other areas suddenly - this area was designed to confuse those that were unfamiliar, making them too overwhelmed to plot and scheme. Of course he knew the way, and confidently led them to two bedroom suites in the area.

"I hope these rooms are appropriate - please let me know if anything's amiss," he said. "For tonight I'll send an elf who will see to your dining needs, and we can meet again tomorrow morning for breakfast and to discuss our next action. I have to get some work done, but you can find me in my office if you have any questions." He gave them each a short nod, then turned and headed back down the hallway. He didn't tell them that the hallways magically scrambled every three minutes - they'd find out if they tried to escape or seek him out. And of course the paintings in the hallway would alert him if they left their rooms. He chuckled lowly and headed to his private study.

The next morning Voldemort arrived to the semi-formal dining room at five minutes to eight and settled in his place at the head of the table. The room was comfortable to him while still imposing for visitors, with a high vaulted ceiling and a large crystal chandelier. The table sat eight people with enough space around it for a buffet table on one side and a curio cabinet on the other. While they were filled with bizarrely shaped bowls and vases instead of dedicated china, he valued them for their magical properties and twisted history.

The high-backed chairs all had wide arm-rests, which he leaned against as he waited for his guests. He was excited to see how they would react now that one night had passed. Would they still be meek and obedient or would they have revived some ounce of rebellion? '_Especially Harvey,_' he thought with a smirk, '_He seems like someone with a strong reckless streak. Either that or a short memory._' They should be arriving shortly - he had assigned Snippy to fetch them and lead them through the Visitor's Wing to the dining room. Just as he was thinking of them Snippy opened the door and bowed low. "Guest Young Gregorovitch is being here, Master," she squeaked as Harvey inched past her. Just as the boy was turning to the elf she scampered out of the room and closed the doors; they slammed closed and the boy jumped at the noise.

Voldemort chuckled lowly, but revealed a polite smile when the boy turned back towards him. "Did you sleep well?" he asked, gesturing for Harvey to join him on his right. The boy nodded with his eyes lowered as he took the offered seat. '_He's run out of defiance...'_ Voldemort thought gleefully. "Where's your father? I thought he'd be joining us for breakfast."

Harvey glanced over his shoulder and then back to his place setting. "He isn't feeling well this morning and apologized for his absence, though I think he might not feel - comfortable - eating breakfast with us…" Harvey said hesitantly. With a wider smile Voldemort clapped his hands, signaling the elves to deliver their meal.

"Please, help yourself to whatever you'd like," he offered. "While we eat, I thought we'd discuss our plans for the next step in the wand development. Did you think of anything?" He hoped the boy would at least be able to come up with something worthwhile, and that he wasn't too intimidated.

Harvey took a deep breath, catching Voldemort's attention. He set his tea down and leaned towards the young man. "Yes?" Voldemort asked amused.

Harvey looked up and met his eyes directly, surprising him, but the shock continued when he started to rattle off various thoughts and demands.

"We need to go pick up my things from the room we rented in Knockturn Alley - especially all my wandmaking tools and ingredients, they're most important and must be handled delicately! In fact some of them can't be apparated or their magic will change, so you'll have to set up a portkey for us to transfer them...ah! I also need to find an adequate room in your manor to turn into a temporary workroom...one with plenty of light, but not too much light," Harvey insisted, continuing, "certain ingredients - especially parts from the mooncalf and niffler - need dark cubbyholes to preserve the essence of the creature…." Harvey finally trailed off, staring into space as he tapped his fork on his bottom lip.

Voldemort slowly released his own fork from his death grip and laying it gently on the table. He was proud that he didn't give into his original urge to slam it down, or to throttle the young man for that matter. It seemed the boy wasn't broken yet - making demands that he probably expected Voldemort to see to personally! '_This boy….'_ Voldemort thought irately while trying to calm down. '_Just bear with it, can't kill him yet...'_

"Ah!" Harvey said with a bright look on his face.

Voldemort held in a sigh. '_Oh no you don't-!'_ he thought quickly.

"Also-" Harvey started.

"Why don't we work on getting your things from Knockturn Alley - you can make a list of other things you need and submit it to me," Voldemort cut in smoothly.

The boy nodded and started selecting some sliced fruit for his plate, with a bright smile on his face. This time Voldemort did sigh, though he hid it in his teacup when Harvey glanced over at him. '_I'm sure this will be worth it - I'll have a wandmaker as a servant and something better than the Elder Wand...'_ he convinced himself. Harvey, oblivious, started to hum as he spread some blackberry jam on a slice of toast.


	10. Chapter 10

Thank you everyone for the reviews! I think I've managed to break myself of my anime binge, though I did start an interesting one that I intend to finish... ^^ Hope you enjoy the chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.

"speech"

_'thoughts'_

_-parseltongue-_

* * *

Voldemort watched from the doorway as Harvey puttered around the room he'd chosen for his workshop. Finally everything was moved into the room, after days of traveling back and forth to that dingy studio apartment; it turned out even he had to legally acquire portkeys if he didn't want to draw suspicions…

The boy had taken a whole day just to choose a room - he'd slowly walked the whole of the manor with an elf trailing him, seemingly more interested in sightseeing and snooping than deciding on a workspace. Several times he'd been summoned by a hysterical house elf because the boy had touched something cursed. After the fifth time, he stayed with the boy and accompanied him, suffering through an endless stream of personal and outrageous questions in the meantime. '_What was he even thinking? The color of my favorite pair of underwear….'_ Voldemort snorted. It wasn't that he was embarrassed - it just caught him by surprise. The boy hadn't even flinched at his incredulous stare, but met it straightforwardly as if nothing was amiss. He'd blinked and answered, and the questions had continued.

'_Somehow I managed not to kill him,'_ Voldemort thought tiredly. He'd held out through the long interrogation, sometimes avoiding certain questions, when Harvey had suddenly announced that he'd found the room. Voldemort hadn't even known that the boy was paying attention to his surroundings, but it was a rather nice room in retrospect. It was large with large half-moon windows that faced the North-east, on the third floor and almost above his personal office. The boy said it was perfect and had immediately demanded several structural changes - the room now had a slanted skylight in the ceiling along with recessed shelves on opposite walls. He'd had to look up construction spells to complete the list of things, feeling like a mere handyman instead of a Dark Lord at the end of the day.

Yes he'd been annoyed, but he was helplessly curious as well. Even now the boy intrigued him, which was why he was lurking outside of the workroom. They'd moved all of the boxes into the room yesterday and Harvey had immediately unpacked everything. He'd filled the shelves with hardly a pause, only stopping a couple of times to check the contents of a box or jar before confidently putting them away. And yet now, as Voldemort watched, Harvey was wandering around the room with a jar under his arm, looking around for a spot for it. He'd spent the last ten minutes rearranging jars and boxes one by one. '_He's just so eccentric,' _Voldemort mused to himself. '_He definitely fits as that damn augurey, yet he must be incredibly smart to make wands...' _ Harvey had finally found a spot for the jar - one meter away and two shelves down from its original spot! Voldemort resisted pulling on his hair and was about to return to his office when Harvey called out to him.

"What are you doing out there?" Harvey asked curiously.

"...I'm trying to understand your method of organization," Voldemort admitted grudgingly. "Did you not sort it adequately yesterday?"

"Oh I did, but sometimes things complain about their spots - it's better to give them attention now or they'll upset all of their neighbors with their whining," Harvey answered.

Voldemort stared at the boy. "They...talk to you?" he asked dubiously. '_Is the boy all there? Or maybe he's what the muggles call a savant?_' Voldemort wondered.

"They do - in a way," Harvey said with a smile. "I know it sounds strange and it's kind of hard for people to explain?" He scratched his head thoughtfully. "It's like someone who sleeps most of the time, except sometimes they wake up and tell you things. And then fall asleep again."

"Is this something every wandmaker can do?" Voldemort asked. He really didn't know that much about wandmaking, and he'd never tried to explore it. But maybe this was his chance to learn and possibly master the craft. Depending on how much the boy knew…

"I think all wandmakers connect to the parts in some way," Harvey interrupted his thoughts. "My father always said that he could hear light chimes when he paired different pieces that were compatible."

"Can one develop these senses?" Voldemort probed. His eyes were focused intently on Harvey who tilted his head to watch him.

"Of course you could learn the basics about general piece compatibility, there are some rules I guess. I don't know if you could completely make your own though, or be able to hear them," Harvey answered frankly.

Voldemort frowned. '_Was I that obvious with my thoughts?'_ He opened his mouth but Harvey turned away.

"Would you like to try it? We can see if you have any ability…" Harvey offered. He waved his hand beckoning Voldemort, who glared at the gesture but complied. He walked into the room and circled the empty boxes that were scattered on the left side, coming to a stop at the waist-high table in the middle of the room. Harvey walked over to the left wall and scanned the boxes before quickly taking one from one of the lower shelves.

"I've been thinking about this combination for a couple of weeks but I haven't tried it yet - this might be a good example…" Harvey muttered as he brought the box to the table and stood across from Voldemort. "I usually don't bring the whole box - there's no need to get them all riled up - but they should be fine."

Voldemort took in the boy's shining eyes and small smile, then looked down as the lid of the box was removed. Inside were several thin branches of mixed length, some even with small blue-green leaves attached.

"This is Himalayan Cedar - it has a very strong yet subtle presence," Harvey lectured. "I imagine the owner will be dedicated and influential, even if it's only in a small way. Possibly someone shy, but who can stand up when they really need to be heard. Someone gentle."

Voldemort raised his eyebrows at the small speech and the change in attitude.

"Can you hear them? They've started to wake up, the light is really bright," Harvey murmured.

His voice held affection and warmth, surprising Voldemort. '_This must be his true side - the side that's deeply in tune with magic,'_ he thought. The everyday Harvey seemed scatterbrained and childish, but this was something new. He forced his attention back to the sticks, and tried to pick up something.

"I don't hear anything," he said after waiting several moments.

Harvey was smiling down at them, but turned to Voldemort with a vague look of surprise on his face.

"You can't? Maybe you need to be closer?" he said thoughtfully. He grabbed Voldemort's hand and held it over the box.

Voldemort stared at the small hand holding his, the long fingers curled around his palm. He'd noticed that Harvey often invaded his personal space with no fear - usually while asking personal questions about his daily routine. '_Maybe I'm not harsh enough with him?'_ he thought with a slight scowl. '_Or he's no longer intimidated? But..'_

"It's warm," Voldemort murmured out loud, twitching his fingers in the grasp.

Harvey glanced at him with raised eyebrows, then returned to the sticks. "Is it? I guess, I've never paid attention to how it feels," he answered.

Voldemort coughed. "What about the wand core?" he asked, shaking Harvey's hand away.

Harvey bent over the box and whispered into it, then chose a branch without a leaf attached. He returned the box to the wall and then crossed to the other side, starting in the middle and examining jars from the top shelf to the bottom.

"I think a good partner will provide strong support," Harvey said over his shoulder as he continued to look. "They're partners, and it's critically important that this core not be too overpowering - not like dragon heartstring or phoenix feather," he added with a smile.

"Something wrong with phoenix feather?" Voldemort asked sharply. "I haven't forgotten that you ate the wand you're currently mocking."

Harvey returned to the table with a jar tucked under one arm, his other hand scratching the back of his head as he smiled sheepishly.

"I didn't eat it - I was testing it! At that point I didn't know what its makeup was and it was the only way for me to examine it…." Harvey babbled. "It's just an interesting core for you," he added quietly, staring into Voldemort's eyes. There was a long silence until he cleared his throat and placed the jar on the table.

"Anyway, these are severed Crup tails - somewhat hard to get since not many people save the second one after they remove it," Harvey continued. "But they're excellent as wand cores," he insisted at Voldemort's doubtful look.

Harvey opened the jar and pinched out a bloody snippet. It was quite gruesome, and if he was anyone else he probably would have felt sick. But he watched with indifference, feeling a small sliver of pleased surprise at Harvey's similar look of unconcern. Harvey placed the tail in the marble tray on the table and returned the jar to the shelf.

Voldemort quickly placed his hand over the tray and tried to focus. "I still don't hear anything," he grumbled.

Harvey shrugged carelessly. "Maybe you don't have any wandmaking ability," he said bluntly. "Or maybe you need to meditate more - sometimes meditation helps?" He seemed blind to the dark look Voldemort shot him.

"And now to bind them together," Harvey announced. He placed the stick in the other marble tray and placed them side by side. Voldemort watched intently as Harvey closed his eyes and held his wand loosely over the trays.

'_Is he meditating? Or is he in a trance?' _Voldemort wondered as he watched. Harvey muttered under his breath as he held still over the trays, continuing the chant even as he occasionally waved his wand in circular patterns.

Voldemort could sense the magic rising but he had no idea how. It was no spell he'd ever heard, but he knew different cultures had unique methods of doing magic. It was fascinating that the boy could go from impudent to worldly in an instant. He couldn't look away.

Suddenly a bright flash blinded him briefly; he looked down at the table and saw that there was one large tray with a lovely amber wand lying inside. Harvey bent close to the tray and examined it before picking it up and twirling it between his fingers.

"It turned out well," he said with a smile, offering it to Voldemort. He took the wand and also looked at but he didn't feel a strong pulse from it.

"It feels weak," Voldemort commented, handing it back.

"It's not as strong as your wand," Harvey agreed. "But a wandmaker has to think of everyone - not just the few that are powerful. One day the perfect owner will find this wand." He went to the boxes close to the door and found an empty box for the new wand.

"So have you made any progress with my wand?" Voldemort asked, changing the subject. He'd enjoyed the demonstration, but his mind was returning to his own goals.

"Not yet, I need to prepare more for that," Harvey said brightly as he settled the wand in the box and gave it a pat. Voldemort held back a sigh - it seemed the childish side of Harvey was back.

"What else do you need?" he asked as he searched once again for his patience.

"I need to go collect the wand core - I want to use a manticore stinger - and I need you to come with me," Harvey answered. "The man I want to visit won't give it up easily, so maybe you can intimidate him." He smiled at the shocked look on Voldemort's face and returned to admiring the new wand.

'_...This boy might be the death of me...'_ Voldemort thought, letting out a deep sigh.


End file.
